


Fallen Star

by SeaOfBones



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Carol Danvers is Baldr, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hades and Persephone Vibes, Prompt Fill, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Resurrection, disaster lesbian carol danvers, except it's baldr and hel vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24277111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaOfBones/pseuds/SeaOfBones
Summary: Carol finds herself in Hel. The Goddess of Death offers her a bargain.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Hela (Marvel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Fallen Star

Carol Danvers woke up in the darkness with a small, ragged hole in her flight suit. She remembered flying. She remembered falling. She remembered—

Of all the things she thought would be her end. Lasers, magic, falling space stations. Carol Danvers remembered a wooden arrow, piercing her heart.

Her communicator wasn’t working. Signal everywhere in the galaxy apart from here, apparently. Carol reached her hands out, slowly, carefully, and her fingertips touched stone on either side. Whether she was inside a planet, a meteorite or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.

“ _I saw Baldr, the bleeding god, walking into Hel._ ”

It was a woman’s voice, cruel and clear. Carol stalked forward; footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of her flightsuit. She wouldn’t call out until she knew who would be answering.

“ _Bright Baldr, gold of brow, wisest of all the gods._ ”

Somewhere ahead, there was a dim, cold light. It was enough. Carol’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the wet sheen of the walls, something like basalt or black marble.

“ _Taken by the shaft of a harmless branch, which seemed at first so slender and fragile._ ”

Carol crept along the wall, shielded in the jagged shadows of stalagmites. There was a huge black throne against the opposite wall, carved from the same slick stone as the cavern walls. Spider eggs dangled from the ceiling on clotted strings of webbing, bioluminescent blue, the source of the faint light.

The woman in the throne looked like a human. Dressed all in black, her white oval face surrounded by a horned crown.

Some people Carol met in space wouldn’t have looked out of place at a nightclub on Earth, and the woman on the throne was one of them. A cold, cutting goth, wearing something like a leather catsuit. Carol stumbled, lurching from her hiding place, sharp pain ringing through her brain as Maria’s admonishments swum to the surface of her muddled memories. _Just your type, Danvers. Just your trouble._

“The real Baldr died a long time ago, of course,” the woman continued, turning her face towards Carol. “Your people speak of it enough. All the world wept for him, but one. Do you think your people are weeping for you, Carol Danvers?”

Carol straightened slowly, still keeping her distance. It made a horrible kind of sense. She knew there were parts of the galaxy that she didn’t understand. She knew she didn’t recognise this place, that there was no logical way she could have ended up here.

And she knew she couldn’t bring herself to fly, to use her powers as normal. Whether it was this place or the damage from the arrow – she wasn’t exactly in the best condition to escape.

“How do you know my name?” Carol asked. Her true name, at that. Even after two decades, so much of the galaxy remembered her not as Carol but as Vers, the Kree destroyer.

“The Goddess of Death knows many things, bright one.” The woman grinned, white teeth picked out even at a distance by her oil-black lips.

“Hela,” Carol realised. “Daughter of Asgard. Last I heard, you were dead.”

“And thus I too am in Hel, Carol Danvers,” Hela replied. “Within the frozen heart of Niflheim, lowest of all the realms Asgard once conquered. My brother is more than the Lord of Hammers, and I am more than the Queen of Blades.”

Carol couldn’t see a way out on foot that didn’t take her past Hela. Two passages stretched out on either side of her throne, though they too only seemed to go deeper down.

“You can’t leave this place, can you?” Carol observed.

Hela let out a rattling laugh, and leapt to her feet. She crossed the cavern floor in one dark flash. Carol braced herself, throwing her clenched hands up. Hela was yanked to a stop a few feet away, and Carol saw it now. The great, black chain around her waist, like an astronaut’s tether. Chattering echoes of her wild cackle reverberated around the cave in her wake.

“The part of me that was not bound here is dead indeed, Carol Danvers,” she replied. “I have no mortal soul, no longer.”

She was even more striking up close, her eyes streaked with black soot, her shoulders tight with muscle. And tall. She was taller than Carol had thought, from the throne. _Just your type, Danvers. Just your trouble._

“From the size of the room and the length of your chain, there’s nothing stopping me from walking past you,” Carol said, chin jutted upwards.

“I would love nothing more, Carol Danvers,” Hela spat. “Nothing more than for one of my brother’s dear companions to be trapped here with me. Even Baldr could not walk out of Hel alone.”

“Hmm,” Carol said. If she’d had her powers, maybe… but if there was some sort of magical bullshit going on here, maybe even that wouldn’t be enough.

“Unless, perhaps…” Hela mused, sucking in her sharp cheekbones. “You’d agree to a deal.”

Carol stared at her. Trusting Hela was a bad idea, obviously. But magical bullshit wasn’t Carol’s area. “I’m listening,” she said.

“It is the curse of the one bound to Hel’s heart, to be able to grant others that which they desire for themselves,” Hela recited. “Freedom.” Her black mouth curved into a grin. “And perhaps I’m just bored enough to offer it to someone such as yourself. A lost valkyrie, who missed their chance at Valhalla. One who might be able to best me, as I am here.”

“You want me to _fight_ you?” Carol said, eyebrows raised.

“I wouldn’t put it so crudely,” Hela purred. “But yes. Baldr needed all but one. For you, one alone shall do. Best me, and I shall restore you from cruel fate’s strike.”

It was an ask, with her powers so depleted. But if she could get out of here with a fight… well, Carol wouldn’t say no to a scrap with Thor’s goth sister.

“…Fine,” Carol said. She held her hands high, reaching inside for a glimpse of her spark. Hela raised a hand towards her blades, and Carol lashed out with a swift kick.

Hela plunged across the room, coming to a skidding stop halfway up the black marble wall. At least she still had her strength. Carol dropped to the ground as Hela lunged towards her, blade passing far closer to her face than Carol liked. Hela’s knee left a cracked crater in the ground on impact. Carol barely had time to notice before Hela was back on her feet and on the offensive, a second blade in her hand.

If this was Hela with her powers depleted, Carol could only wonder at what a terror she would have been before.

Carol leapt back, and Hela darted to the side. The press of Hela’s tethering chain tightened against Carol’s back.

Carol cursed as Hela darted towards her, face a blank mask of concentration. Carol reached her hand behind her and yanked on Hela’s chain, throwing her off just a fraction, enough to spare Carol’s neck from her blade.

Carol had to assume it was possible to die a second death.

Hela spun back towards her, blades held out to the side like pincers. Hela dove forward, and Carol made a mistake.

Hela’s blade stopped. Pressed against Carol’s neck, tight enough to choke. Carol’s palm was frozen in place, just as close to Hela’s chest. The perfect place to lash out with a pulse of energy, if she’d been able to draw on her powers.

“I suppose this is a tie,” said the Goddess of Death, her black smile enigmatic. “Killing blow against killing blow.”

Surely, Hela must have known Carol couldn’t kill her in this state. Surely, Hela must have known that she’d won.

Hela twisted her blade and dragged it upwards, the cold metal tip tracing its way up Carol’s neck, coaxing her chin upward to meet Hela’s eyes. Carol’s hand stayed tense, stayed hovering above Hela’s clavicle.

“What do we do now, then?” she asked, voice narrowed by the press of Hela’s blade.

“The Goddess of Death isn’t known for her mercy.” Hela gave a wicked smile. “But I’ll make you another deal, Carol Danvers.” She drew her blade away, just a fraction. “You may leave… if you promise to return.”

Carol swallowed, with the fraction of space she’d been granted. Eyes wavering against Hela’s. “I’m guessing that a promise means more here than it does in the living world.”

“That it does,” Hela replied.

Both their expressions held their stiff guard, both of their mouths stayed taut. The Goddess of Death can grant others that which she desires for herself, but cannot have.

“…Then we’ve got a deal,” Carol replied.

Carol Danvers slept in the darkness. And when she awoke, she lived once more.


End file.
